Remembrances
by willgirl
Summary: Brennan remembers back on her life with Booth. B
1. Remembrances

**A/N: I know. Another story from me? Disturbing, considering that I'm still finishing my other ones. Blame it on the flu-ridden state I'm in. This story is going to be a chronological tale of B&B's life together. Except, it's going to go backwards! Starting with this chapter and moving through their life together to when they first got together. The chapters will be quite sporadic. I hope you enjoy! For those reading my other stories, A Charismatic Evil and This Relationship from Wink Productions, both will be updated soon!**

Temperance Brennan stared at herself in the mirror, her graying hair framing her face. She wiped the sleep out of her eyes and sighed. Turning from the mirror, she made her way out of the bathroom, her pajama pants falling slightly on her hips.

Her clothes seemed to be getting bigger nowadays; she had lost a lot of weight, both because of her advancing age and the thing with Booth.

The thing with Booth.

It had been three weeks and she still couldn't call it for what it was. She gripped the banister and made her way down the stairs to the kitchen. She was desperate for a cup of tea. She couldn't stomach coffee anymore; the doctor had said that it was too much for her stomach to take.

Another exciting thing about being old.

She sighed again and headed for the kitchen, her eyes studiously avoiding the photos that framed the walls. She put the kettle on the stove and got out her favorite mug, one she had for years, that had a picture of a skeleton and the words: 'Age: 35, Gender: Female, Cause of Life: Love'

Today was the type of day that made her wish she could go to work.

However, they don't let 79 year old forensic anthropologists gallivant around the lab. Even though she could still do her job as well as her successors. She had been there several times after she had retired but she couldn't stand to see someone else in her office, on her platform, in her lab. It's been twelve years since she retired and Booth had to force her to leave at that point.

Booth.

A wave of pain washed over her and she sat at the kitchen table, her hands gripping the side.

A splash of wetness hit the table and she realized that it was a tear. A tear on her on jarra wood table they had picked up that time they were in Australia. Another one fell and then another as she remembered their trip, remembered their life together.

Her and Booth. Partners. Friends. Lovers. Husband and Wife.

Their life had been full of ups and downs and twists and turns, an adventure that she loved until three weeks ago when Booth had died.

He had left her, even though he said he wouldn't, and now she was here alone. After decades with him, laughing at his corny jokes, feeling his arms around her, she was alone.

Now all she could do was remember.


	2. Died

**A/N: Here we go. The next chapter! I sat down to write Evil (which will also be posted today)and I came up with this! I'd like to give a tissue alert for this chapter. Don't worry, there will definitely be fluffy parts too in the story. **

Her study was the favourite part of her house. With a wall length desk on one side and rows of bookshelves on the other, framed by a huge window that lead out the backyard, it was her sanctuary.

Right now, she wasn't writing, but rather watering her numerous plants. Booth had teased her once when they were dating that she couldn't' even keep a plant alive. She dug her heels in, got every plant book known to man, and became a master.

She loved to garden, it was peaceful and serene, a way to get away from the troubles of the day, if she had any. Picking up the water bottle and spraying several plants, she smiled. Her 30 year old workaholic self would chastise herself for not spending every minute of the day working.

However she was retired now, and despite Booth having to force her to leave the Jeffersonian, she found herself enjoying it. Both she and Booth were still fit, despite their ages. She was 79 and he had just turned 82.

Of course they couldn't go gallivanting off the way they did when they were first retired, but she didn't mind. They usually woke up and Booth would putter around the house and do his crossword puzzle, while she sat in her study and worked on her latest book. She still loved the challenges that writing brought and she had a plethora of ideas swirling in her head for new adventures for Kathy and Andy.

Her publisher wasn't expecting a book or anything. She had told them long ago that she would write when she felt ready and they shouldn't push her. She rarely did publicity any more either.

After she worked for a few hours they would have lunch, and then depending on the weather, sit outside on their porch swing and talk for the afternoon. Relieve old memories, talk of Parker and his family, once in a while perhaps making love.

They didn't do that as often as they used to, she blushed at the thought of how often and where they would have sex, but when they did it was slow and sensual and beautiful.

A crash came from upstairs and she was on her feet.

"Booth are you okay?"

She heard nothing.

"Seeley, are you okay?" she repeated, making her way up the stairs.

She looked in the bedroom and not seeing him there, moved quickly to the bathroom. He was lying on the floor, his face white as a sheet.

"Oh god, Booth."

"I….chest…" he managed to say, his hand clutching his t-shirt.

She got up and ran into the bedroom, grabbing the phone and dialing 911.

"Hello, my husband's had a heart attack. 436 Westdale Avenue. Please, please hurry."

She felt his hand enclose in hers and he gave a weak smile, a tear rolling down his cheek.

"No." she said, squeezing his hand tightly. "No, Seeley, you promised remember. You promised."

He opened his mouth but couldn't speak, instead blinking rapidly as he tried to focus.

"Please." She begged.

"Ppp…" he tried.

"Don't talk, just don't…"

He squeezed her hand once more as his eyes fell shut.

And then he was gone. She knew he was just gone. She had been around dead bodies her whole life and she wasn't ready for this. Wasn't ready for his hands to still feel warm, wasn't ready to see the faint smile on his face. He had left her here by herself, something he said he never would do.

Hearing the doorbell, she let go of his hand and shakily made her way downstairs and opened the door.

"He's upstairs." She said, sinking into a nearby chair.

Two of the paramedics headed upstairs while a third stayed with her.

"Ma'am? What happened?"

She just shook her head, refusing to answer. There was movement upstairs and she watched as they brought her husband down, covered up and put him into the ambulance.

"I'm so sorry ma'am." One of the paramedics nodded. She gave a quick nod and watched as they left.

Suddenly, the house was so big. Too big for her. She didn't belong here anymore. Not without him.

Her body felt old and tired, she was weak. She glanced over at the couch and the tears welled up in her eyes. It was falling apart and they both got teased mercilessly about it by their friends and family. But it was their couch, the one from her apartment so many years ago.

When he used to bring her Wong Foo's and they would sit for hours and talk about the case or anything else. When they used to do paperwork or argue about all sorts of things. It was the couch she was sitting on when he nervously paced in front of her and finally asked her out on a date. It was the couch that they had laid on yesterday, her head on his chest as they both succumbed to a late afternoon nap.

She picked up the phone and dialled a familiar number.

"Angela?" she said, trying to keep the tremble out of her voice. "Booth died."


End file.
